Page 73 of Everlasting Vows

I press my hips up another inch, relishing her warmth as it wraps around me. The tightness of her pussy grips me like a silken fist, making it difficult to follow my plan to take it slow, when all I want to do is impale her on my cock. Instead, I take a deep breath and push in another inch, then lean back in and fuse our lips together.

Abbi’s hand slides up the back of my neck, and her fingers slip into my short hair, pinching the strands between her fingers, sending electricity shooting down my spine and outward through my limbs.

Another inch, and I swallow her moans as she swallows my groan. The sounds muting against the backdrop of water splashing against skin and bouncing against tile.

One more inch and I’m almost completely buried inside my wife for the first time in too long. Abbi tangles her tongue with mine in a lewd dance that forces my hand, and I snap my hips forward, joining us completely. With nowhere to go, I press Abbi harder into the wall, and she tightens her legs around my hips, digging her heels into my ass.

Our kiss lingers, neither of us in a hurry to move things along. Her familiar taste, the feel of her lips, and her body against mine ground me in a way I’d forgotten I needed. Our connection is everything, lighting up every nerve ending in my body and awakening a part of me I’d thought lost forever.

Why in the hell did I let this slip away?

It’s another way I put distance between us. I was so caught up in my agenda to ensure financial security that I forgot all about intimate security with my wife. Physical touch has been almost non-existent, and I wonder how we’ve survived all these years without it when we used to touch all the time. It wasn’t just the sex. It was small touches here and there. Wrapping my arms around her from behind and dropping my chin on her shoulder. It was holding hands with fingers entwined and pressing my lips to my wife’s neck for no reason at all. We lost it all.

Abbi grows impatient, using her thighs to push up, and I drag my hips back. The slide of my length against her smooth, silky walls is incredible, and if I’m not careful, I’ll come too soon. With our mouths fused, I push back in and begin a slow rhythm in and out of Abbi’s body. Our breaths and hips sync easily as if we’ve been doing this every day of our lives, not in a state of abstinence for almost six years.

Her soft tits slide against my chest with each stroke, and we pull apart to watch each other with heavy-lidded gazes, our mouths touching with each thrust of my hips.

“You feel so fucking good,” I grunt between panting breaths. “You take me so well.”

Her fingers tighten their hold in my hair as her other hand wraps around my upper back, gripping my shoulder for purchase, her short nails digging into my flesh, pushing me closer to the edge.

I tighten my hold on her hips, grinding against her clit with each thrust, and she mewls like a kitten. The sound goes straight to my balls, and I have to count backward to stop myself from coming too soon. I don’t want this to end. I want to linger in this bubble with Abbi for as long as I can. Shut out the world and love my wife. The way I always should have. She deserves so much more than what I’ve been giving her.

Abbi’s breaths grow frantic, and the rocking of her hips grows more insistent.

“Nix,” she breathes as she squeezes her muscles around me, causing my control to slip. “I-I need⁠—”

“I know what you need,” I breathe against her mouth and increase the force of my thrusts. My hips snap sharply, and I give her everything I have. My chest heaves with every breath from the exertion, my muscles burn, and I don’t think I can hold on much longer. It’s been too long, and she feels so good wrapped around me. “You need to get there, Abs. I’m almost done,” I grunt against her cheek.

Her pussy squeezes my cock impossibly tighter, the rhythmic pulsing of her muscles sending lightning shooting down my spine to my balls, and I lose the battle. A long groan rumbles from deep inside as I push in one final time. My cock throbs. I drop my head to Abbi’s shoulder, soaking up her sobbing moan as she squeezes me, draining me of every drop of cum. I press up into her, ensuring I’m as deep as can be as we both find our release. My heart pounds a wild rhythm, almost in time with the throbbing of my cock.

Our panting breaths echo off the tiled walls of the shower, and now that we’ve both climaxed, my awareness expands to our surroundings and the cooling water of the shower pounding down on us. Abbi shivers, goosebumps rising across her body, so I reluctantly withdraw from her pussy. I carry her out of the shower and wrap one of the large, fluffy towels around her body.

She looks perfectly wrecked. Her lips are swollen from our kisses, and her collarbones and neck are pink from my beard. She’s so damn irresistible. I dip my head and kiss her again. Our tongues slide together in a slow, seductive dance, and I engulf her in an embrace that I wish could fuse us together.

I’ve missed this.

I’ve missed her.

She pulls away and tucks her head beneath my chin with a satisfied sigh. My chest expands with a heavy breath full of frustration and disappointment. We could have had this all along if I’d gotten my head out of my ass sooner.

I don’t understand my own mindset—no wonder Harry spent half of our sessions looking at me like I was from another planet. What the hell was I thinking? Did I really think money was more important than this? The confirmation that I’ve made the wrong choices for years sits heavy in my gut, and I’m unsure if I deserve the second chance Abbi’s giving me.

“C’mon, let’s get you dry. Our food should be here soon and then we can get some sleep.”

She mumbles something incoherent against my chest but allows me to dry her body. I locate the complimentary robes and dress us both as there’s a knock at the door. Abbi gets comfortable on the bed, while I grab the food and bring it to her.

“I just ordered us a couple of burgers. I figured neither of us had a lot of energy to eat anything too complicated,” I tell her as I place the tray in front of her, then climb onto the bed next to her.

She shuffles her butt closer to me, ensuring we’re touching, and I realize even though I’ve been making the effort to repair the damage I’ve done, we’ve not felt close like this for some time. I could drown in regret for the rest of my life, but that doesn’t really help anybody. Instead, I busy myself by handing Abbi her food and shoving some fries in my mouth.

She smiles softly. “Thanks. I’m not sure I can eat anything.” I watch her as she picks at her burger, taking it apart and nibbling on the lettuce and pickles; her expression thoughtful. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

While I’ve been dwelling on the physical intimacy we’ve lost over the years, reality has set back in for Abbi, and her mind has skipped back to where our focus should be right now.

My heart stutters, and I take a moment to gather my thoughts because I want to be honest with her, but I don’t want to break her heart more than it’s already broken. I’ve seen men lose limbs, and I’ve seen them recover and go on to lead productive lives. But I’ve also seen men with less severe injuries shut down, and while they physically recover from their wounds, they never fully recover emotionally and mentally.

The thing is that none of those men were my son. Seeing Murphy lying in that bed with half of his leg missing and the bandages covering the rest of his body was one of the toughest things I’ve experienced. I understand the need to protect stability in the Middle East, but sometimes the cost is too high. Families are losing good men and women. Young men and women are coming home physically, mentally, and emotionally wounded—most from which they’ll never recover.